


Forever Yours

by Blue_amethyst



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Major Illness, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Stark Industries, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 04:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13450386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_amethyst/pseuds/Blue_amethyst
Summary: I love you. I'm dying. Goodbye.The words kept repeting themselves in his head, making him nauseous. He already had been in some shit situations before, but never like this. He liked Peggy with all his heart, but everything with her was so quickly... it'd endend before they even got a chance to be more than friends. So, as a consequency, Steve was never prepared for this kind of feeling, this kind of pain. The excrutianting tipe, the one that seems to broke you from inside out. No one told him it'd be so bad.





	Forever Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I've been a Stony fan for ages, and after reading amazing historys here I decided to post my own. English is not my first language and I don't have a beta yet, so all mistakes are mine. If you like the history, kudos and comments'll be much appreciated!

Dear Steve, 

I wish you would forgive me for what I'm about to tell you, but I know you won't. We love each other to much for you to understand why I have to do this, but I hope that one day, you're going to remember me and see that this was for the best. And I also hope that when that day comes, you'll still love me. 

The first thing I want to tell you is that I love you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I never truly believed in love at first sight or even in falling in love in such a short period could happen, but you changed that and now I can't imagine how sad my life would be if we never have met. 

The second thing I want to tell you is: please, don't ever change. Don't stop loving the word and wanting it to be a better place, don't stop doing your art, don't stop smiling and please try to remember me as I am now: a man who deeply loves you and cares for you. 

Well, I think it's time for me to be sincere, so I better tell you what I'm supposed to. Steve, I'm dying. When I put the arc reactor in my body I thought it was saving me, but (surprise!) I was wrong. Now I know that this thing has been slowly poisoning my body and unfortunately, it's too late to try and fix it. I don't have time anymore and, even knowing that as a mortal we all are going to dye someday, it saddens me to realize that I'll never going to have the chance to really be with you. 

The weeks that I spent at shield headquarters was with the intention of trying to see if doctor Banner had any knowledge about the poisoning to try and revert the process or even cure me, but he couldn't and, even that being I failure to my hopes on getting better, I will never regret going 'because I met you and as I said before, that was the best thing that happened to me. 

I'm sorry for never telling you about my problem, but you were the first person in 3 years that looked at me seeing Anthony Stark, the genius inventor who is addicted to coffee, loves Star Trek and pretends not to suffer from PTSD and not the ill man who needs to take 4 pills a day, have more doctors than friends and is dying at 36 years old. I'm also sorry for leaving without saying goodbye, but I knew that if I saw you, I would have stayed and this wouldn't be good for any of us. I'm dying and you barely started your knew life after the ice, and now you deserve to truly live and not be stuck with me. 

Nine weeks may be nothing for a lot of people, but I know it was enough for us, for our love. They gave me more 5 months, if I'm lucky, but I know I'm not. And every day I getting more weak and ill, so and I don't want you to see me like that. 

Again, I'm sorry. Sorry if I'm making you cry now and for not being able to be with you, but believe what I'm telling you now: I will never forget you, Steven Rogers. 'Till my last breath, you'll be on my heart and on my mind. I hope you'll never forget about me, either. 

\--- Forever yours, Tony. 

Steve's fingers were holding the letter with such strength, that for a moment he really thought that the paper would tore, but it didn't. The only damaged thing in the room was his heart. He was alone and he knew the door was locked, so it'd be okay to cry or to even broke the furniture, but Steve couldn't manage either of that. His face was still dry and he couldn't find the strength to get up from the chair across his bed. Steve knew that the rage would come. Soon enough he'd be angry as hell, pissed at everything and anyone, but in that moment, all he could feel was the sadness, the emptiness of his heart. 

I love you. I'm dying. Goodbye. 

The words kept repeating themselves in his head, making him nauseous. He already had been in some shit situations before, but never like this. He liked Peggy with all his heart, but everything with her was so quickly... it'd ended before they even got a chance to be more than friends. So, as a consequence, Steve was never prepared for this kind of feeling, this kind of pain. The excruciating type, the one that seems to broke you from inside out. No one told him it'd be so bad. 

When Steve first woke up in “the future” he'd been frightened, to say the least. Not so much about the technology, but mostly because of his friends, his dreams and every other thing that was now lost forever. The first nights were the worst, because he still wasn't used to the lowliness. Even being poor, Steve always had his mom and Bucky in his childhood, then when his ma died, he had Bucky and then, after the serum, the commandos and Peggy. It wasn't perfect, he knew that. But it was better than sleeping in a cold bed, alone, knowing that everyone he ever known was dead or old enough to spend more time in bed than out of it, with husbands, wives, kids, grandkids and friends. Anything was better than to realize that life went on without you. And yes, Steve was happy for them. He was truly glad to know that they had good lives, that they were remembered by their braveness in history books and museums. But all he couldn't stop asking was: when it'll be my turn to be happy too? 

After a while, things began to change. It wasn't great, just a little bit better. Phil Coulson, the agent that seemed to have quite the fixation with him, gave him a routine to help him adapt to this new life. The agent was very clear about the fact that Steve would in no way be kept there against his will and that they'd be happy to provide him an apartment anywhere, but Steve wasn't an idiot, he knew that was a lot of catch up to do and he couldn't deny the help, so he accepted the routine and soon was glad for it, since it gave him a purpose. The routine was simple enough: He woke up at 6 am, did a 10 miles run, then came back around 9 am and took breakfast. After he would train until lunch with one of the other agents, mostly with Clint or Natasha, since they were the only ones that didn't seem to care about his history and would joke without being worried or anything. Steve may be “out of this time”, but he wasn't a baby or made of glass. After lunch he had free time until 5 pm and he used the time to draw, to use the gym again or to simply learn more about internet, technology in general and other things about the future like economy, politics and sports, by himself or with help of others. 

At 5 pm he always had therapy sessions. In the beginning he was reluctant to go, not because he was ashamed or embarrassed (PTSD was a known thing in “his time” already), but simply because he didn't tough that he'd be able to open himself to a stranger and in a room which was most certainly, being monitored. In spite of his fears, things weren't so bad. Obviously, he still felt unsure, and didn't feel comfortable to talk about most of him, but his therapist, Samuel Wilson, was a nice guy who was totally fine with the days when Steve didn't feel like talking, and a good listener when Steve was in the mood to give a few glimpses of his emotions. Wilson also shared a few things about himself and Steve could really see a strange kind of friendship in the future for them. 

After the sessions he went to have dinner, and them more free time. Again, not perfect, but it could be worse. With the routine he could spend a lot of time thinking about other things that besides the past. He still couldn't see a “bright future ahead”, as almost everyone kept telling him to see, but it was a start. No perfect, but acceptable. 

Now, alone in his room, with the fucking letter still in his hands, Steve wanted to fall on his knees and beg for whatever god that'd listen to him, to go back to “acceptable” because having the perfect just to it to be taken from him in the blink of an eye hurt like nothing else ever did. Steve didn't know exactly when the tears began. One minute he was staring at the letter, his mind miles away, and the other minute he saw teardrops over some words on the paper. He then put the letter on top of the table that contained his notebook and a few books, and went to sit on the bed. Maybe, if Steve used the technics Sam taught him for the nightmares, he'd be able to control the tears or at least even his breathing. It was simple: deep breaths while trying to hold on to the best memory he had. It was then that Steve realized the problem of trying the technique now: the best of his memories was with the very person that was causing the tears. Absolutely perfect. 

Steve suddenly froze when he heard knocks on the door. He wasn't ashamed of his tears, he was just ashamed of everybody telling him “I told you so” after having his heart broken by Tony Stark. He quickly dried the tears, and went to the door. 

“Hey, Clint.” 

“How are you, man?” the archer's words and his tone clearly indicated that his friend already knew what was happening and also how Steve probably was feeling. 

“Perfect.” Steve said, because it seemed like the right word to say. "Absolutely perfect."


End file.
